Bring Him Home: An Iroh Story
by hootowl
Summary: Zuko is forced into exile. Iroh chooses exile. Diary/story-like shorts. No Pairing
1. Bitter Regrets

Update: I'd like to say that as of October 13, 2011, I've updated this work. Added about 100 more words. I felt it didn't flow as well as I'd like.

**Bring Him Home: An Iroh Story**

**Bitter Regrets: A Diary of A Regretful Old Man**

_ I am an old man now. An old man with regrets. Many regrets._

_ I regret leaving the wife of my youth to fight a war I didn't support. I regret encouraging my only son to follow in his father's footsteps. I regret the siege of Ba Sing Se. I regret not being a better role model to my younger brother. I regret leaving my wife to die in squalor from child-bed fevers after giving birth to someone else's child. I regret abandoning that child to whatever miserable fate awaited it. I regret abdicating. I regret giving into my grief. I regret not being there for my sister-in-law. I regret not stopping my brother from abusing his only son._

_ I live with my many regrets, but I will not let my nephew's banishment become one of them. Perhaps, if I go with my nephew into exile, I can make up for at least some of my mistakes. Mistakes I could have prevented had I been brave enough—wise enough. Maybe the Spirits have granted me a second chance. A chance for redemption. My nephew—He is young yet. Maybe I can undo some of the damage._

The pen was set aside and burnished gold eyes looked over the drying ink. It was strange to him that he would keep a diary. He'd never before thought to record his thoughts, but the weight of guilt was resting heavy on him and he needed some place to put it—to ease the burden even if he was never able to shed it completely. Iroh sighed, wrapping his hands around a cup of jasmine tea and breathing in the delicate fragrance. The tea helped clear his head, though more for watching the tea leaves swirl than for any supposed medicinal reason. For a moment he wondered when he'd become this tea-drinking, diary-keeping man, but then he brushed the thoughts away. Circumstances change. People change. A selfish part of him resented that change and he felt ashamed of it. He glanced around the richly furnished room, taking in the deep reds and brilliant golds. Another sigh escaped his lips and he closed his eyes, blocking the sight from his eyes. Tomorrow it would be different. Tomorrow. Sharp steps outside his door drew his attention and a tall, proud man's presence filled the room. Cold gold eyes flitted over the room, taking in the packed bag and the desk littered with papers.

"So, you are determined."

It was not a question. Repressing a third sigh, Iroh set the teacup down, pushing himself out of the chair. His gaze lingered on a small, framed portrait—his late wife in her wedding finery. He traced a finger over the painting and then turned, meeting the eyes of his younger brother. Little remained of the boy he once knew. The one who laughed, who—Iroh shook the thought away. There was no use dwelling on the past. Ozai was not the brother he used to know. Iroh nodded, reaffirming his decision, "I am."

Ozai's expression tightened and he scowled. "If you leave with the boy, you will never be welcome back to the palace."

It was Iroh's turn to frown. "The boy is your son—"

"I have no son," Ozai snarled.

A great weight of sadness settled on Iroh. "He's just a boy, Ozai. A child. Do you really need to banish him?"

The brothers looked at each other, the silence stretching tight. "The boy is a coward. Cowards deserve to die on the rocks. I have no use for them."

"He's—"

"He's taken too much from me."

It was something in his words, some underlying resentment, that Iroh detected. "Ozai, Ursa—"

The Fire Lord swore, interrupting Iroh. "Never mention that woman to me again! She whored herself out and I got stuck with the issue. She's abandoned me!"

"You know that's not true."

While it was true that Zuko greatly favored his mother, there was something about the jaw that was all Ozai. Not to mention the boy's struggle to master the basics of firebending. Iroh wondered if Ozai had forgotten his own struggles. Ozai sneered in response and turned to leave. "Should he succeed in his goal, he would still be unwelcome here. Those who are loyal to me have leave to kill him on sight if he so much as steps into Fire Nation territory."

Iroh didn't bother to protest and simply watched the Fire Lord leave. Alone once more, Iroh gathered his papers, blotting his writing, and packing it away in a worn leather satchel. There was nothing left to miss. The ties that bind were broken. With a wave of his hand, he doused the torches, pausing at the window to gaze out at the moonlit gardens. Second chances were never free.

"Farewell...my brother."

* * *

><p>AN: Honestly, I don't know where this came from. It's probably already been done before as well, but I thought "What the hay? Why not?" The italicized part has actually been written for just over a month, the rest I whipped up in just under an hour. I don't know if I'll be continuing.<p> 


	2. Hitting Rock Bottom

**Hitting Rock Bottom**

_Those first few months were difficult. The crew was resentful—not that I blame them. They'd essentially been banished alongside my nephew and, if I'm completely honest, I blame myself. These men had no reason to take a commission on this ship but for loyalty to me. I don't deserve their loyalty—their trust. I sense their discontentment, their bitter glances toward Zuko. I don't think any of them know the reasons behind my nephew's banishment except his mark of dishonor. Maybe I should explain things. Maybe. Not yet._

_If I had known it would come to this, I would have done things differently. There was nothing I could to do prevent his exile—my brother was determined to find some means of disposing of his son—but perhaps I could have made a greater effort to prevent the utter destruction of his youth._

_Zuko has changed. At first he cried. What young boy doesn't when he feels abandoned by all who should love him? In a misguided attempt to cheer him, to give him a new purpose—or perhaps show him that he wasn't at fault—I told him of Ozai's condition. The hope that my words inspired nearly crushed me. The despair that followed did. The Avatar is gone. This is a hopeless quest…_

_I should have recognized the signs. I'd been around enough depressed men during my military days to be familiar with the symptoms. I knew all too well how the loss of everything could drag the strongest man so far into that dark place within himself he would be unable to claw his way out again. I guess I didn't want to acknowledge my own failings._

_Zuko descended into melancholy. For days he ate and drank sparingly. I thought he would come out of it and I regret that I was wrong. I fear I have destroyed another life. I fear I have fallen so far there is no hope of redemption._

_I'm sorry, Ursa._

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Iroh sat quietly by the bed, gazing at his young nephew. The boy lay still beneath the coarse blankets, his breathing shallow. Bandages swathed his head, protecting the healing burn. Iroh folded his hands across his stomach, releasing a soft sigh. The burn would be with Zuko for the rest of his life, made worse by the onset of infection in the deeper creases of the delicate flesh. But the burn was not the reason Zuko lay unconscious and still as death in bed. Dark bruises marred the pale flesh around his right eye and Iroh knew the loose tunic hid more. The steady rise and fall of the boy's narrow chest was the only indication he still lived and allowed Iroh some measure of relief. Iroh smoothed out a small fold in the thin blanket on the bed, his eyes lingering on Zuko's bandaged left wrist before quickly cutting away. His gut twisted. Guilt left a sour taste in his mouth. Failure was a heavy mantle to bear.

A soft scuff of shoes at the open cabin door drew his attention. One of the crew entered with a tray laden with tea things. No doubt Lieutenant Jee was concerned with Iroh's lack of appetite so thought to tempt him with those sweet cakes Iroh loved so much. The sailor approached with an apologetic look, setting the tray on the low table nearby. A glance at the tray proved Iroh's musings correct. Three sweet cakes, a bowl of rice, and a fish filet was included on the tray with the tea things. The sailor gave Iroh a formal bow, eyes drifting to Zuko, then turned to leave the room. He hesitated at the door, turning to face Iroh and clearing his throat. "On behalf of the rest of the crew, I would like to apologize for the events that occurred this past week, General Iroh."

"None of you bears any blame," Iroh murmured.

The sailor shifted awkwardly. "Has there been any change?"

Iroh scrubbed a hand over his eyes before reaching for the teapot and pouring himself a cup of tea. "No."

It was times like this he wished they could sail into the Northern Water Tribe's harbor and ask for help from one of their famed healers. He'd heard they could work miracles. Zuko needed a miracle. With nothing else to add, the sailor bowed and slipped away, leaving Iroh to stare thoughtlessly into the rippling surface of his tea. Losing his appetite for tea, Iroh set it aside and returned to watching his nephew. The medic had done everything they could for the young prince and any other visits would simply be accompanied by a shameful click of the man's tongue and perfunctory, "I can do nothing else. Prince Zuko will either recover or not."

Iroh's hands fisted in his sleeves. It was during those visits he was tempted to abandon his peaceful ways and strangle the man. The medic must have sensed the malevolent thought because his visits were rare, preferring to await a summons. It took a great deal of effort for Iroh to reach for Zuko's limp hand and even greater courage to clasp it. Zuko's hand was cool, far too cool for a firebender, and Iroh vigorously rubbed the hand to encourage warmth. "Come on, my boy, wake up."

The words were whispered, fearful that Zuko _would_ hear and then refuse to comply. Iroh clasped the hand between his tightly, ignoring the tear that leaked down his cheek. "I can't lose another son, Zuko. Wake up. Things can only go up from here."


	3. Differing Views

**Differing Views**

_I'm trying to interest Zuko in the world outside the Fire Nation. This is a great opportunity to expand his horizons. There is much the world has to offer and satisfaction can be found in the future. Unfortunately, my nephew is not interested in the outside world and continues to try to regain the past. He cares only for gaining the notice and affirmation of his father which will never happen. The man my brother used to be is dead. He cares only for power. I wish…well, it is useless to wish._

_I have passed much of my knowledge and life experience on to Zuko, but I doubt he listens. He is too young to be so cold and bitter. It worries me. I fear he will again attempt to take his own life. I fear he may succeed where he has failed before._

_It took nearly a week for him to recover from his first attempt and I didn't want to leave him alone for long. He feels like there is nothing left for which to live —no purpose in living. I know, after Lu Ten's death, I felt much the same. I was angry. I cursed the Spirits. They stole my son from me. I sought to destroy them. _

_It is useless to try to destroy that which has no body. _

_Zuko is determined to achieve what no man has been able to for nearly one hundred years and he will not be persuaded otherwise. It has given him new life. It's become an obsession. It's worrying. I fear to encourage my nephew in this damned search for the Avatar. It only leads to disappointment._

_We're beginning with the abandoned Air Temples._

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Iroh gazed around in wonder at the walls of the Western Air Temple. Despite his many years of military service, he had never been to any of the Air Temples. There had been no reason. After all, Fire Lord Sozin had wiped out all of the Air Nomads nearly a hundred years ago. The Air Temples were nothing more than dusty ruins of a past civilization. Regret and disappointment were bitter pills to swallow. The evidence of an entire nation destroyed lay before him and for what purpose?

Zuko stomped by him, muttering angrily, and Iroh watched him pass in dismay. It was time to provide a distraction and perhaps allow the young man an outlet for his temper before it consumed him. Iroh turned back to the walls, adopting an awed look and pitching his voice so Zuko would be sure to hear him, "Look at these frescos, Prince Zuko, such exquisite detail."

As he expected, Zuko whirled around, his fists clenched angrily. "I don't care about frescos, Uncle!"

Iroh sighed. Despite his nephew's flash of temper, he didn't seem any calmer. So much for that distraction. Zuko's sharp steps paused and Iroh glanced over his shoulder to find his nephew gazing out across the wide canyon. Iroh shifted, moving to look over the younger man's shoulder.

"What a stunning view," he sighed.

Zuko's shoulders twitched. "The only view I'm interested in is the Avatar in chains."

Iroh grimaced. Such cold-hearted words from such a young man. Tucking his hands into his sleeves, he decided to point out the flaw in Zuko's ambition. It would do no good to let the boy's hopes get too high and perhaps he could tempt Zuko to turn his ambitions towards something more beneficial. "You know, the Avatar hasn't been seen for one hundred years. The chances of finding him here are very slim."

Zuko ignored him. "First we'll check each of the air temples, then we'll scour the world, searching even the most remote locations until we find him."

Iroh reached for Zuko's shoulder, lightly resting his hand. "Prince Zuko, you should take some time to heal and rest."

He twisted away, exclaiming, "No! The only way to regain my honor is to find the Avatar; so I will."

Iroh watched him stalk off without so much as a glance at their surrounding and sighed again. Some mistakes had to be made before anything could be learned.


End file.
